


Silence

by tiptopevak



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, M/M, Mental Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 05:31:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9477722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiptopevak/pseuds/tiptopevak
Summary: It takes Isak twenty minutes to get up, showered, dressed and ready for school.While he does this, Even sits on the bed, right in the middle, blankets wrapped around him but slipping down his arms.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i like to put my emotions into even and help him work through them bc it's more productive than my own sleepy sadness???

He’s exhausted this morning. 

Full to the brim with a kind of deep, aching tiredness that has carved a permanent home into the heart of his bones. This tiredness - it’s a lot like sadness, the way it drags his shoulders, closes his lungs, but it’s slower. Heavier. Thicker. 

The bed beside him is cold. it takes Isak twenty minutes to get up, showered, dressed and ready for school. While he does this, Even sits on the bed, right in the middle, blankets wrapped around him but slipping down his arms. The cold nip of morning air draws a shiver out of him, but he’s too tired to fix it. There’s a plate of reheated pancakes for him on the bedside table, but he’s too full with this loud-silent  _emptiness_ to fit anything else in. 

He blinks, slides his gaze across the room to his bright-eyed boyfriend. Isak. So clean and crisp and – alive. Like he’s thrumming.

And for a moment, the only thing that cuts through the tiredness is a flicker of jealousy, a kindling of the emotion in the pit of his tummy - Isak can get up, showered, dressed and ready for school in twenty minutes, but it will be at least two hours before Even gathers the strength to attempt putting on a pair of socks. 

He blinks again, and Isak is closer, wandering over, kneeling up on the bed in front of Even. He cups even’s pale cheeks so gently, so carefully, like he’s afraid of where to touch. Afraid of what will make him hurt more. 

Even can feel Isak’s hands, can hear his voice, but feels like he’s watching him through a film of glass. 

“I have my phone all day. Call me if you need anything. _A_ _nything_.”

He tilts Even’s chin up, thumbs stroking soft along his cheekbones. 

“You’re not alone,” and he presses the words to even’s lips in a kiss, as if to make sure they’re being felt as well as being heard. 

And then, a moment later, he’s gone, and and Even- slides his gaze back to staring at the blank wall. 


End file.
